


I'll Be Seeing You

by Venusdoom3



Series: Related Stucky One-Shots [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, No Sex Again, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Pining, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Self-Doubt, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, a couple swear words, but nothing serious, don't hate me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 09:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8096653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venusdoom3/pseuds/Venusdoom3
Summary: "You'd literally rather die than live without Bucky." Sam's affect was flat and disbelieving. He couldn't help it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song of the same name, in this case sung by Billie Holiday. If you haven't heard it, [do so immediately.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xB9l4bdblLU) Have tissues handy. Goddamn, it's sad.

  **

(2014)

  **

" _Bucky_?"

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

**

"It was him. He looked right at me, and he didn't even know me."

"How's that even possible? It was like seventy years ago."

"Zola. Bucky's whole unit was captured in '43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did, it helped Bucky survive the fall. They must've found him."

"None of that's your fault, Steve."

"Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky."

**

"You're my friend."

"You're my mission. _You're... my... mission!"_

"Then finish it. 'Cause I'm with you till the end of the line."

**

"You're going after him."

"You don't have to come with me."

"I know. When do we start?"

**

Five months later, when they tracked their latest intel to Johannesburg, Sam witnessed a woman chase her hat into the center of an intersection, causing a pileup involving two buses and a dump truck and walking away without a scratch. Sam burst into the hotel room he and Steve shared, intending to recount the story with the proper amount of breathless glee, but he stopped short when he found Steve lying on his back on the bed farther from the door, one arm thrown over his eyes and Billie Holiday's mournful voice pouring from the speakers of his iPhone.

_I'll be seeing you_  
_In every lovely summer's day_  
_In everything that's light and gay_  
_I'll always think of you that way_  


_I'll find you in the morning sun_  
_And when the night is new_  
_I'll be looking at the moon_  
_But I'll be seeing you_  


"Shit. Sorry, man," Sam said as Steve scrambled up to sit, hunched, at the edge of the bed, facing away from him.

"It's okay." Steve's deep voice was almost too soft to hear over the music, but something sounded off. And was he wiping at his face?

Sam skirted Steve's bed, staring down at his friend, who stared resolutely at the floor, so Sam shrugged and dropped to his knees beside the bed. Just as he thought; Steve's eyes were swollen and red-rimmed, wetness glimmering against the dark circles beneath them. Steve looked as if he might have been crying for an hour or a week, and Sam blinked in surprise. In all the months he had known Steve, he had never seen the guy show even a hint of weakness, unless he counted Steve's time spent unconscious in the hospital with his face and body bruised, punctured, shot, and lacerated, which Sam did not.

"Hey, man." Sam reached out and clasped Steve's big left hand for a moment. Seriously, the guy had huge hands. "What's going on?"

Steve swallowed hard and straightened his back, cutting an imposing figure even sitting down, although he cleared his throat and heaved a watery sigh before answering, eyes averted. "I'm trying real hard not to lose hope, Sam. Every time we get a lead that looks solid, every time it seems like we might be getting close, it's nothing, or he's gone already. I'm starting to think he doesn't want to be found. That he doesn't want _me_ to find him."

"Aw, hey." Sam rose to his feet only to sit next to Steve on the bed. "You're not giving up just because things get tough. That's not like you, Cap. You--"

"You think I like beating my head against a brick wall every time I turn around?" Steve said, coming out almost surely less vitriolic than he intended it to, not helped by the fact that it was followed by two fat tears rolling down his cheeks. These he didn't even bother brushing away, which alarmed Sam far more than the fact that he had been crying in the room alone minutes before.

"No, I don't. Nobody's that dumb, not even you, the biggest blond I ever met." Not even a hint of a smile out of Steve. This was serious. Sam had seen Steve low before over their inability to track down his former best friend -- who, Sam tried daily to forget, had attempted to disembowel Steve with bullets -- but never like this. "Hey. You in there? C'mon, that was funny."

"Sorry." It was barely a whisper. "I'm just torturing myself thinking about what I'll do if we never find him, or if we do and he won't come back with me no matter what I say. I'd honestly rather he shot me again but finished the job this time."

"Jesus, Steve," Sam huffed, shoving at his rock hard bicep and moving him not a millimeter. Damn superheroes. "That's a bit melodramatic, dontcha think?"

Steve merely shook his head.

"You'd literally rather die than live without Bucky." Sam's affect was flat and disbelieving. He couldn't help it.

Slow nod.

"Even though you thought he was dead up till six months ago?"

Steve finally looked at him, bloodshot blue eyes noticeably puffy, before looking away again. "Yes. It was all I could do to convince myself to keep living when I thought he was dead. Knowing he's alive and wants nothing to do with me would be _so_ much worse."

Sam scowled at the darkening sky through a slit in the curtains, trying to formulate a response, but when realization struck him, he somehow managed not to unhinge his jaw. "Steve," he said slowly. "Is there, by any chance, more to your relationship with Bucky than you've told me?"

"No," Steve said too quickly, defensiveness creeping into his voice when he continued, "Why would you say that?"

"Let's see." Sam began ticking off reasons on his fingers. "You dropped your entire life to travel around the world -- _at your expense_ , no less -- looking for him when actual spy organizations have been unable to do it for decades. You let the guy shoot you multiple times and punch your face into applesauce, yet you're still making excuses for him. You dream about him sometimes--"

"I do?"

Sam gave him a look. "You've woken me up more than once yelling out his name, so I'm guessing yeah. I don't know if it's a good yell or a bad yell, but it's his name, anyway." He ticked a fourth finger. "Now that I think about it, every time you bring up one of your old-timey memories of the guy, you get this little half smile I don't think you even know is there, and" --fifth finger-- "now I walk in and find you listening to sad, sappy love songs and getting yourself all worked up about him."

At least Steve had the decency to blush wildly at that.

"There's nothing to be afraid or ashamed of." Sam put his hand on Steve's shoulder. "I know things were different then, and so were people. You _had_ to hide something like that back in the day so you didn't get your ass kicked or thrown in jail or worse. It's not like that now."

Hitched breath. Audible swallow.

"I'm not gonna judge you, Steve. It won't make a difference to me either way. And I think you know damn well I wouldn't say a word to anybody about it. I just think I have a right to know what the stakes are here. You don't have to say anything; just -- I dunno, blink once for yes and twice for no, or something. Were you and Bucky, y'know... more than friends?"

Hesitation. Eyes to the floor. Nod.

"Uh-huh." Sam thought for a moment. " _A lot_ more than friends?"

Another nod. Shoulders slump. Tears spill over.

"Aw, shit. C'mere, man." Sam turned and pulled Steve into his arms, holding him as tight as he could, even though Steve probably barely felt it. "I'm not gonna lie and tell you I know how you feel, 'cause I don't think anybody alive has gone through this exact thing, but I _am_ sorry. I'll do anything I can to help you find him. _Anything_. Okay? Can't have my buddy floating around unmoored."

When Sam released him, Steve wiped his eyes and managed a smile. "Thanks, Sam."

There were a hundred smart-ass remarks Sam could shoot back at him, but in the end, he went with the less-is-more approach:

"You're welcome."

 

**


End file.
